Isla Nublar
by shialuvr222
Summary: Winner of the Jurassic Park Challenge on the NFA forum. When the team heads out to an island in the North Pacific to investigate the death of a Lieutenant, they discover that Isla Nublar may not be as empty as they thought... Crossover with Jurassic Park.
1. Prologue

A/N: This was my entry for the Jurassic Park challenge on the NFA forums. I love NCIS (favorite show, duh) and I LOVE Jurassic Park (one of my favorite movies) so how could I not join in? This entry technically won the challenge (I CANNOT GET OVER IT) but it was probably just because the other person's entry wasn't able to be finished because their internet was down - and that made me sad, cause I wanted to read it :( If you have time, though, hop on over to the NFA and read it (nfacommunity . com). It's called Haunted and Hunted by Merzibelle. She'll continue it once she has her internet back :D

Anyhow, **a quick note**: All of this story, save the first half of this prologue, was written in four days. From halfway through Chapter 1 to the very end was all written on Thursday - I sat down at my computer in the morning and stayed in my chair for fifteen hours straight to write almost the whole story. I did have two bathroom breaks, I think, but that was it. Because it was written almost all at once, I know it isn't very good, but I would still appreciate an honest opinion. Thanks :) This story is already finished. I'll post a chapter a day.

Disclaimer: I don't own, nor do I claim to own NCIS or Jurassic Park. If I did - well, then, I'd be in a pickle, because it would be impossible to choose between Tim McGee and Ian Malcolm. *ponders* Anyhow, no lawsuit necessary! All characters, along with anything you recognize, belongs to Bellisarius, Crichton, Spielberg and Universal.

XXX

The night air was warm and humid, and swarms of mosquitoes buzzed around happily, settling on anyone who didn't swat them away. Waves lapped calmly onto the shore, bouncing off of the sand and the cargo ship resting by the dock. The sky was clear and the moon shone brightly, not to be outdone by the stars.

It would have been a peaceful night, if not for the banging.

It was quiet at first, but as the urgency increased, so did the volume. It emanated from a large metal container, atypical in shape to the average cargo box in that the edges were curved with slits in the sides, and the opening end slid up instead of swinging out. The aggrieved sailors from the ship glanced uneasily at each other. They weren't privy to what was in the box, but they weren't positive they wanted to know, either.

What made them more nervous than the fact that something in that container seemed to be alive, however, were the scientists. There were only about four of them, but they strode around in their white lab coats and wide-rim glasses, ordering the workers around as though they had nothing better to do.

"I don't like this," mumbled an aging sailor named Joe, between puffs of his cigarette. "Somethin's up."

A younger man, listening intently, began to wring his hands nervously. It was his first trip in this job, and he lacked experience. "What is it, d'you think?"

"I dunno," Joe replied, "but I just wanna get this delivery over with an' go."

"You aren't the only one."

That came from a tall brunette woman, striding up at that moment. She seemed as uncomfortable with the situation as they were.

"Lieutenant." Joe tipped his hat respectfully.

"Hi Joe, Gary," she replied, eyeing the busy workers at the dock. "What do you think is in there?" She inclined her head towards the container.

"Not my place to speculate, ma'am, but don't you know already?"

She winked. "Not at liberty to say."

"Ah, it figures."

She patted him on the back and walked away.

Six workers approached the dock, two of them pushing a lift, and secured the container onto the lift. The banging got worse as the box was moved, followed by a long, screeching noise, similar to a cat's scratch on a chalkboard but sharper, harder and much, much louder. Everyone froze for a moment after silence filled the air, looking wide-eyed at each other. Finally, one of the scientists, a short, brown-haired man, called out for the work to be continued.

The box was pushed the rest of the way onto the lift, and then a tall, commanding woman – the head scientist, Joe presumed – lead the way off of the dock and into the lush foliage. With a tired sigh, he shoved himself off of the railing and disembarked the ship, following the strange entourage into the jungle. Gary trailed closely behind him, wide-eyed and muttering to himself under his breath.

Fighting their way through the tropical growth wasn't as difficult as he'd expected it to be, but was just as exhausting. There were hills to climb, pushing the heavy box in front of them, and to descend, holding it back from slipping down the slopes. They had to cross a few minor streams without getting the container wet – a challenge, to be sure, and a seemingly unnecessary one – and there was a tedious moment when the balance of the load seemed questionable on a cliff.

There was a designated path they were following, just wide enough for the lift, and the majority of the people present followed behind the heavy box. Despite their strain to reach their destination, the small party arrived relatively unharmed to the site.

There was a small building before them, concrete on three walls with a steel barrier on the side facing them. This barrier was lifted to reveal a spacious area inside filled with assorted indigenous plant life. The top of the structure had no ceiling, but instead was covered with a rigid wire mesh and a sign reading, CAUTION: 10,000 VOLTS in large letters on each side.

Per the woman's orders, the container was placed parallel to the opening in the building and removed from the lift, where they were given orders to push it into the waiting entrance. After a few objections from not only the crew of the ship but also the workers from the island, the grumbling men and women took hold of the handles on the sides of the box and began to shove.

The opening in the building – cage seemed a better word for it– fit perfectly to the end of the container. A tall, tan man with a foreign accent called out confidently, "Loading team, step away!"

Joe snorted with derision. _Loading team. Right._

He glanced at the ground long enough to flick his cigarette butt into the grass and grind it with his heel. He then focused on the Lieutenant's face, wondering what she knew that they didn't about what was going on.

Suddenly, as he watched, her face contorted in horror moments before a scream dominated the air. His eyes widened as she was dragged, shrieking, into the container that had somehow broken open from the inside. Someone began shouting, "Shoot her!" as Joe ran forward to help; by the time he got there, her body had gone limp and her face was frozen in a mask of terror.

Before he had time to process that, Gary let out a shriek as something pulled him from his place beside Joe. He reached his arms out desperately, and Joe caught them, holding on for dear life. Whatever was inside the container gave one final pull and then retreated, releasing the younger man into Joe's arms.

Joe was relieved, until he noticed that Gary's left leg and part of his torso were missing. It was too late for the young man.

Joe angrily lowered the still-warm body to the ground and stomped over to the man trying to calm the rest of the crew. "What'd you mean, shoot 'er? We coulda saved that woman!"

The man slowly spun around to face the aggressive sailor, blue eyes piercing. "I wasn't talking about the Lieutenant."

Joe's own green orbs widened in horror, and he stumbled back, falling over the corpse and landing hard on his rear. He stared at the body before shifting his gaze to that cursed metal box.

A loud, high pitched squeal came from inside, the echo resounding in his ears. There wasn't any doubt about it anymore – something in that container was alive.

And she was angry.

It would have been a peaceful night, if not for the screams.

XXX

A/N: Well? Please review! This prologue brought to you by: My sick and twisted imagination! :D


	2. Chapter 1

"I'm just saying that I don't think they're all that creative."

"What are you talking about?" Ziva queried, entering the bullpen and situating herself behind her desk. She looked from Tim to Tony and back to Tim, waiting for an answer.

"Jawas," Tim replied.

"Jawas?"

"Fictional creatures from Star Wars, indigenous to Tatooine," Tony informed her. "They repurpose scrap metal and live in a self-sufficient environment."

"They steal stuff and resell it!"

"It takes skill, McStickler."

"It takes skill to collect junk?"

"Wait," Ziva interrupted, her forehead creasing in confusion, "are those the little furry animals that look like teddy bears with slingshots?"

"No, those are Ewoks," Tony reminded.

"And they're only in Episode 6. Jawas are in Episodes 1 and 4," Tim added. "Although, I don't know if any of the prequel trilogy should count."

"Nice catch, Tim."

"Thanks. I know my Star Wars."

"Ah, well." Tony grinned. "I guess once a nerd, always a nerd."

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

"Gear up."

Two words, and the discussion of scavenging aliens on a desert planet was over. They were up and out of their chairs, packing their firearms and latex gloves in their backpacks.

"Where we going, boss?"

"Isla Nublar."

The recent increase of activity stopped as quickly as it had begun.

"Where is that?"

"120 miles off the coast of Costa Rica," Gibbs said calmly. "Go home, pack a toothbrush and meet me back here in an hour."

"That's odd," Tim commented once they were in the elevator. "Never heard of an Isla Nublar."

"Neither have I."

Are you kidding?" Tony laughed. "Do you have any idea how many islands there are in the Caribbean? There are too many to know them all, of course you haven't heard of it."

"Gibbs didn't say it was the Caribbean. It could be the North Pacific."

"Quiet. You're messing with my DiNozzo mojo."

Ziva and Tim exchanged a glance.

"'DiNozzo mojo'?"

"I'm not even going to address that."

XXX

"How many hours have we been hiking?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Really?" Tony shaded his eyes with his hand as he glanced up at the sun, set in its late-afternoon course. "It seems like longer to me."

"It seems like longer to all of us when you won't shut up," Ziva hissed.

"I was looking forward to watching Magnum tonight. There's a marathon starting in…" – he checked his watch – "…sixteen minutes!"

"Don't you own every season?"

"You're missing the point, McGee! I was very much looking forward to five hours of Tom Selleck and his Ferrari rescuing chicks and taking down the bad guys, especially since we're on weekend duty, and I won't have time for my usual self-selected episodes."

"As opposed to actually rescuing chicks and taking down bad guys?"

"I believe that he would much rather watch a man with a moustache do his job than actually do the work himself."

"Go ahead, make your little jokes," he muttered. "We'll see who ends up unraveling this case."

"You're just cross because I was right about the island being in the Pacific." Tim smiled victoriously.

"Here's a thought, McGee. Since you were so right, why don't you go teach geography at a high school far, far away from D.C.?"

"Or why don't you all shut up?"

Gibbs spoke for the first time since their helicopter had landed. Their guide glanced back at the trio, eyes widening.

"You mean there really is a mute button for these guys?"

Tony opened his mouth to retort, but promptly shut it at a glare from Gibbs. They walked in silence after that until finally the group reached their destination: a small concrete and steel structure with electrified wire adorning the top in place of a ceiling. On approach, Tony couldn't tell if there were multiple bodies scattered about or one body in several places_._

"McGee, ID's and sketch. DiNozzo, bag and tag. David, photos."

"What happened here?" Tim inquired, the question directed at their guide, a Dr. Burns. She was a small early-thirties woman, no more than five foot two, with reddish brown hair down to her shoulderblades and shy hazel eyes.

"Two victims, both from the ship you saw on the flight in. One was a 1st Lieutenant, here to oversee our assorted, uh… projects, here at the facility. I don't know the name of the man."

"Duck," Gibbs asked quietly, "what d'ya think?"

"Given the onset of rigor mortis and decomposition, I'd estimate these two souls have been dead approximately 42 hours."

"Cause of death?"

"From these wounds, I would hazard a guess that it was some form of animal attack." He gestured to the indicated areas with a gloved finger before continuing in a much more hushed tone. "Jethro, those are bite marks."

"So, what's the problem, Duck?"

"They are positively unlike any animal bite I have ever encountered. I have no idea what could have done this to those poor victims, but I assure you that it isn't something you want to encounter."

Gibbs nodded, and both of them tuned back into the current conversation.

"What kind of projects do you have here?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. Classified." She seemed almost scared to deny them the information. Her standard lab coat threatened to swallow her tiny frame whole.

"Anything you can tell us?"

"Uh, no. I wasn't here. Oh, but there are witnesses…" She paused nervously at the stare of Gibbs. "…at the Center…"

Ziva looked curious. "What is the Center?"

"It's where everything is on the island. I mean, not everything, but… The staff lives there and works there. It's where all our equipment is, all our computers."

"What kind of modem setup do you have?" Tim paused his sketch of the crime scene to wait for an answer.

"V32 ASVD tertiary."

"Haven't heard that name in a while. What about lab equipment?"

"McGee."

"Sorry, boss." He resumed his sketch, but waited for her answer.

"We have an independent cognitive function monitor for some of our more difficult experiments and we're fully outfitted with a Kern analytical balance, laboratory incubators, centrifuges, thermal cyclers, transilluminators and biological, stereo zoom and comparator microscopes, along with basic equipment like mixers and shakers. We also have a mass spectrometer and a hybridization oven."

"Wow, you've got a pretty sweet setup here." He glanced at her, thoughtful. "What do you use the incubators for?"

"I'm afraid that's also classified. I'm so sorry," she added, seeming sincerely apologetic.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The shout came from a pathway opposite the one they entered from. There was another woman standing there, looking to be mid-to-late fifties. She had gray hair that flowed to the middle of her waist and she towered at least a foot over Dr. Burns, who involuntarily shuddered when she heard the sharp, accusing voice. She was slim and voluptuous, and her eyes were a clear, proud brown. At the moment, they were also quite angry.

"It's called documenting a crime scene," Gibbs called across the open space. "Or were you just not aware of standard procedure?"

She strode across the clearing and glared eye-to-eye at Gibbs. "You can't take pictures here!"

"Do you not understand the words 'standard procedure', or is it 'crime scene' that you got stuck on?"

"Agent Gibbs, is it? You're the one they sent from Washington?"

"Last time I checked."

"Look, this is _my _operation on this island. You do what I tell you that you can do, and nothing more, understood? I'm telling you, no pictures, and if you don't like it, why don't we go back to the Center and call the mainland, and have those pretty little executives from the Pentagon spell it out for you?"

"Lead the way."

There was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, which told Gibbs that she hadn't expected opposition._ She's used to getting her way._

"Follow me. Closely," she warned, appearing none too happy with the situation.

Gibbs called a quick "hey", and the three agents grabbed their gear and fell in behind him. Dr. Burns sent an apprehensive glance at the crime scene and followed suit.

XXX

"So my dilemma here, Mr. Secretary, is that I am receiving an absolute lack of cooperation from the agents that you sent me."

"I apologize on behalf of Agent Gibbs, Dr. Stockett, and I assure you that he only acted in a way that he thought was necessary. He's a determined and capable investigator. He just gets carried away sometimes."

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary. I wouldn't have called you if I didn't think it the safety of the island was at risk. We have very classified material here that I will protect as best I can."

"I respect that, Doctor, and I'm sure Agent Gibbs does as well. I have the Director of NCIS with me, and he sends his regards along with his sincerest apologies as well."

"That I do." Vance's voice sounded normal to all those present in the room, save Gibbs. There was a tinge of annoyance hidden in his tone.

"Thank you, Director, Mr. Secretary."

"Dr. Stockett, if you don't mind, may I have a word with Agent Gibbs?"

"Absolutely, sir. Thank you again."

She left the room, throwing a triumphant glance at Gibbs as she did. Over the phone came the muffled sound of SecNav leaving Vance's office with a quick goodbye.

"What is this, Leon?"

"I know, Jethro. I don't like it any more than you do, but Jarvis made it very clear that the classified project trumps a double murder. He doesn't want you going anywhere except the scene and the bunk you're spending the night in."

"What's so important?"

"I don't know. Apparently the title 'Director' doesn't get you read in either." He sighed, and Gibbs could visualize him running a hand over his face tiredly. "The point, Jethro, would be this: Like it or not, you have to do what they tell you to do. If it was up to me you'd have access to everything on that island, but I guess that's why it isn't up to me."

"At least give me something on this Doctor."

"I knew you'd ask. There isn't much here on Patricia Stockett, but I did manage to find out that she's been lead scientist for several military projects in the past, most of them classified. She knows how to keep a secret, apparently. She's been at this particular post for going on eleven years now, and from the looks of it she left a pretty nice government contract to take it."

"Must be somethin' big, then."

"Watch your back, Jethro, and keep an eye on your team. This is the kind of case that could get you into trouble if you go snoopin' around."

Back in D.C., Vance could have sworn that he heard Gibbs smile before the dialtone came.

XXX

When Gibbs exited the room that the phone conference had been conducted in, he saw their guide from earlier –what was her name, Burns – cowering away in a corner from that gray-haired nuisance Stockett. It sounded as though Burns was being reprimanded for something.

"Hey!"

She turned around in mid-sentence and spotted him immediately, a victorious smile coming to her features. She sauntered over confidently.

"Why the long face? Somebody get a lecture from the teacher?"

He tried not to think about the way her grin infuriated him. "Why am I here?"

"There's always the chance that you wanted a vacation and decided that a _classified _government island was the best place to go, but the more likely reason would be that a chopper flew you out here."

"You know what I meant."

"Do I?"

"If you hate having us here so much, why did you call us in?"

"I'm a good citizen, Agent Gibbs. Two people are dead, so I reported it. It was your superior's decision to send you here."

"And they don't want me to touch anything either. I'll ask again, why did I have to drag my team out here if we aren't allowed to do a thing?"

"You're here on a formality. I'm legally obligated to report the death of two people at my facility, and they were obligated to send someone to check it out. All you need to do is sign a paper saying that you came, you saw, and you went, and the classified stamp will take care of the rest."

"I won't accept that."

"You're going to have to. You don't have much of a choice."

She studied his face for a moment, and seemed just a bit less smug. Then she sighed.

"If you want, you can finish up at the crime scene." She immediately held up a finger to halt his oncoming words. "But you still have to follow my rules, and I have to be present."

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to gauge this turn of events.

"Lead the way," he repeated.

XXX

Stockett stood, arms crossed, off to the side of the clearing. Photos were out of the question, but she allowed Tim to ID the bodies and Tony continued to bag and tag. Ziva attempted to track the victims' movements prior to their deaths.

"Boss, the woman is 1st Lieutenant Rachel Manford with the U.S.S. New York."

"That, the one built with the metal from the World Trade Center?"

"Yeah, Tony. The man in Petty Officer Gary Spencer. Neither of them has a rap sheet or even a reprimand on their file. Spencer was new, though."

"How new?"

"This was his first assignment."

"Ouch." Tony winced.

"This does not make sense, Gibbs," Ziva called, drawing Gibbs away from the corpses. There was a good dose of frustration in her tone.

"What doesn't?"

"I have looked at this from every possible angle, and the only place the attack could have come from is in there." She pointed to the mystery building.

Gibbs motioned for her to follow as he stepped closer to the establishment, but the stern voice of Dr. Stockett stopped them in their tracks.

"You can't go in there." She watched Gibbs' expression switch from curious to annoyed and added to her statement, "That's an order."

Internally, he was shaking his head. This case was getting nowhere.

XXX

A/N: What? Oh, don't look at me in that tone of voice. You know I had to put a Star Wars reference in. Anyhow, please review! :D


	3. Chapter 2

The team had finished at the crime scene – not much to do there – and put their bags in the room they would be using that night before being led by the petite woman to the kitchen, where they had proceeded to heat a simple but satisfactory meal. Tony was smiling warmly at Dr. Burns. A bit too warmly, Ziva thought; _he's up to something._

"How many workers are there on the island?"

She looked up at the question. "We have twenty-three workers, four scientists and a… specialist, you might call him."

"Specializing in what?"

"I wish I could tell you." She smiled apologetically, her expression reading true to her words.

"Don't worry about it." He waved a hand nonchalantly.

"I didn't see enough room for twenty-eight people in the dorms," Gibbs commented quietly.

"The workers come every morning and leave every night, Mondays to Thursdays. They come by boat from a small fishing island about thirty miles south of here."

"So it's just the five of you?"

"And the five of you." She paused. "Oh, and Dr. Malcolm."

Tim looked confused. "Who is he, another scientist?"

"Oh, no. Well, he is, but he doesn't work for us."

"So what is he doing here?" Tony flashed her a smile.

"Our main investor sent him here to make sure everything is going well, safely. Ensure it's satisfactory, or something like that." She poked her food around her plate. "He generally does lectures and theoretical papers, but the investor wanted him, of all people, to evaluate us."

"'Of all people'?"

She looked flustered. "I- I mean, it isn't that he isn't a capable scientist- He's certainly nice enough-"

"…But?"

Her stammer ceased. "…But he wouldn't have been my first choice to evaluate our type of facility. That isn't to say that he isn't qualified, of course," she added hastily.

"What does he write these papers about?"

"Well…" She pursed her lips. "He says he's a Chaotician."

"Wow." Tim seemed impressed.

"McGee." Gibbs' one-word inquiry was automatically met by a condensed explanation.

"Chaoticians study Chaos theory, boss. The general premise, as you would understand it, is that there is no reason for anything. Anything can happen in the world because it's an action/reaction thesis."

"That's depressing." Tony made a face.

"It's a widely accepted theory, and the basis for several successful experiments," Tim pointed out. He then turned back to Dr. Burns. "What's the name of the Chaotician again?"

"Dr. Malcolm."

He appeared surprised. "As in, Dr. Ian Malcolm?"

"Yes, how did you-"

"I follow him closely. I'm a fan of his early mathematics approach. Actually, he gave a lecture when I was at MIT."

"You went to MIT?"

"Yes." He smiled.

"That's why you can follow along with the science speak." Understanding dawned in her face.

"McGadget here can follow along with a lot of stuff. He had a great education. Unfortunately, he makes up for by having no social skills to speak of."

"Thank you for that."

"Any time. Now, Dr. Burns, when you say there are four scientists who live here, are you counting yourself?"

She blushed. "Yes, I am."

"What kind of scientists are they?"

She hesitated for just a moment.

"You don't have to answer that, Dr. Burns," called Stockett's now-familiar voice.

"You like to come in just when things are getting good, don't you?"

"I'll take 'getting good' to mean 'disobeying a direct order to stop poking around' and answer yes, Agent DiNozzo."

"Hey," he raised his hands defensively, "There's a lot of confidential stuff around here. Way too much for me to keep up with, anyway. How am I to know what question breaks some kind of law?"

"I think you know exactly which questions you shouldn't ask."

"You'd love to prove that, wouldn't you?" She hid it well underneath a composed mask, but Tony could tell exactly how annoyed his cocksure smile made her. That only made his grin broader.

"Dr. Burns, if you're done eating, the lab results from our most recent genetic strands are in." Without waiting for an answer, she grasped the younger woman firmly by the arm and half-led, half-dragged her away. The loud echoes of her footsteps expressed her chagrin at DiNozzo's antics.

"She's hiding something."

"Thank you for that, McStateTheObvious."

"We need to talk to the staff," Gibbs said, ignoring the immaturity of his two senior field agents.

"Good luck with that."

The deep voice came from the entrance to the kitchen. The man leaning on the doorway was tall and lean, with tan skin and pale blue eyes. His hair, peeking out from under an Indiana Jones-esque hat, was the color that comes from being light brown with near-constant exposure to sun, rendering it in-between brown and blonde, and he was dressed in tan shorts and a white T-shirt exposing a muscular frame.

"Alex Dylan, I live here."

Ziva looked curious. "Your accent is…?"

"South African," he clarified. "I'm the head game hunter here."

"Game hunter?" Gibbs' forehead creased in confusion.

"Oops, forgot. Not supposed to say anything." He didn't seem too concerned. "Patricia got us all together and made it clear that you weren't to know anything. To be honest, I think it's ridiculous."

"I like this guy," Tony whispered to his cohorts.

Dylan sighed. "She does get carried away with her clearance sometimes, and she can't stand it if she doesn't get her way, but if she gets used to you… Well, then she's not so bad."

"I don't think we'll be around long enough for that to happen."

"True enough." He lifted his hat to rub his temples with his index finger and thumb. "Look, if it was up to me, I'd be straight with you, but… She'd notice if I was missing. She'd keeping tabs on everyone until you're gone."  
>"Do you think she'll let us take statements from the witnesses?" Tim looked a bit concerned.<p>

"Well, most of them have gone by now. They left with the U.S.S. New York when it shipped out this morning. If you want to interview the live-ins, though, then that depends."

"On what?"

"On who asks. Here's a hint: pick a person who hasn't managed to get on her bad side."

XXX

Ziva poked her head into the women's bathroom cautiously before entering, an old habit she had picked up during her pre-NCIS days. She had considered breaking it, but decided that old habits die hard, and she would rather appear paranoid than have her particular skill set get rusty. She noticed under one of the stalls the shoes of Dr. Stockett and entered the small room, approaching the sink.

She began to wash her hands about the same time as the doctor exited her stall and did the same.

"I didn't know you were in here."

"I just came to wash up after dinner," Ziva explained, smiling at Stockett. She actually smiled back, an act that surprised the Israeli.

"This may be hard for you to believe, Agent David, but I'm not an angry woman. You smile, I smile back. It's as simple as that."

Inwardly, Ziva frowned. She didn't realize her emotions were displayed on her face. _Maybe I am getting rusty._

"I understand. Gibbs is not an easy person to get along with." The last sentence was almost an afterthought.

"Is he always that mule-headed?"

"Sometimes." She cringed on the inside, hoping that he never found out she said that. _It's just for the case_, she reminded herself.

"I do have one question, however."

"Go ahead."

"Well… would it not be easier to say that we did our report if we actually did our report?"

"You aren't going to talk me into reading you in, Agent David."

"That is not what I meant. Might it seem better on paper for you and for I if it at least appeared that we did our job? Maybe put a few witness statements in the file?"

Stockett narrowed her eyes. "The witnesses already left."

"Not all of them."

"You wouldn't be able to get anything. The things they would reveal in their statements are the very thing we're trying to keep a secret."

"Gibbs is a hard man to work for. He has expectations of us. Let us have ten minutes with each of them, if for no other reason than letting us feel like this entire trip has not been a massive waste of time."

The older woman sighed, a contemplative look crossing her features. "You can have ten minutes. No more," she warned, and her tone backed up the impression that she was not messing around.

"Understood," Ziva replied.

Once she left the bathroom and was out of Stockett's sight, she crinkled her nose and squeezed her eyes shut in a triumphant expression, pumping her fist in the air in silent victory.

XXX

"Dr. Henry Price."

"Yes. Just out of curiosity, why am I here?"

"I'm here to take your statement about what happened here two nights ago."

"But I thought you weren't supposed to know that."

"This is a formality, just like the whole trip."

"I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Special Agent Timothy McGee."

"I don't think I have anything to add to what you already know."

"We don't know anything."

"Exactly."

XXX

"Lincoln Carpenter?"

"_Doctor_ Lincoln Carpenter, please.

"Lincoln? Wow. I didn't think anyone was named Lincoln anymore."

The nervous-looking man pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "Can I help you, Agent…?"

"DiNozzo, and yes. What happened Tuesday night?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean…"

"I think you do."

"I want a lawyer."

"We don't have a lawyer here."

"Then I have the right to remain silent."

"You aren't under arrest."

"Then I'm free to go."

XXX

"Why am I here, Gibbs? You can't possibly expect me to tell you anything."

"I don't."

"So you just enjoy wasting my time, then?"

"By rights, I should be asking you that."

Gibbs fought his hardest to hide his smirk at her glare.

XXX

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Dylan. Due to your advice, we were able to secure interviews with all of the staff."

"Anything to help." He had a charming smile.

"I don't know if they'll do any good, as the people here seem to be scared of Dr. Stockett, but… It's better than it was before, right?"

"Much better."

"So, were you there when it happened two nights ago?"

"I was right at the front. Saw the whole thing."

"So you could, in theory, tell us everything."

"Yes, I could. But I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because Stockett is watching us. She's hidden cameras."

XXX

Tony sighed tiredly. It had been a long day. He ran his hand over his face before pouring his fourth cup of coffee.

The interviews weren't going as well as they had hoped. It seemed that Stockett had them all scared to say a word. Then again, Gibbs hadn't tried to intimidate them yet, but Tony had a feeling that these characters needed a more delicate touch.

"Oh, hello, Agent DiNozzo."

"Dr. Burns."

"Long night?" She inclined her head towards the steaming cup on the countertop in front of him.

"You could say that." He leaned against the counter. "We haven't seen you in the interviews yet."

Nervousness flashed across her features. "But I wasn't even there."

"That's true. I guess you couldn't tell us a thing." He sipped his coffee, wishing he had cream and sugar. He hated it black. "Not that you would talk to us anyway."

"Agent-"

"Please, just Tony."

"…Tony… If it were up to me, I would tell you."

"It is up to you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ah, nothing." He looked away nonchalantly and let her ponder what he had said. He hoped she would take the bait.

"Look," she began in a hushed tone, "I'm not authorized to tell you this, but there is something you should know about what's in that building."

"I'm listening." His volume was equally low.

"Well…"

"Any coffee left, or have you drunk it all, Agent DiNozzo?" The older woman's tone insinuated that she wasn't thinking about coffee, and her expression supported that theory. Anger was reflected in her words.

Without another word, Burns silently left the room, passing Stockett to do so, visibly trembling as she went.

Alone once again, Tony sighed. He had been so close.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: I introduced Malcolm in this chapter - Malcolm is my favorite, and Jeff Goldblum is one of my favorite actors, so I couldn't _not_ give him a spot in this. :D PLEASE review!

XXX

They regrouped in a small gathering room, positioned at the front of the hall that led to the dorm rooms. It was necessary to go through that room to get to the dorms, but for the moment it was empty.

"These interviews aren't going very well," Tony pointed out.

"Who's stating the obvious now?"

Ziva interrupted the conversation. "Mr. Dylan expressed the desire to help by giving us the information we need, but was unable to."

"Burns did the same thing."

"Price wants nothing to do with us," Tim commented. "How'd it go with Carpenter?"

"Not great."

"Stockett won't talk. Didn't expect her to."

"What are we missing?" Ziva pondered aloud.

Tony snapped his fingers. "Has anybody talked to that Chaos guy?"

"Dr. Malcolm?" Tim offered. "He isn't a part of the staff. Besides, Burns told me that he got here yesterday afternoon. He wasn't even there when Manford and Spencer were killed."

"He could tell us what his evaluation is so far," piped up Ziva. "We may be able to get some answers out of him if we try."

"Or you could just ask."

Every head in the room turned to the doorway. There he was, a tall, well-built man, even taller than Tim. He was in his late thirties and had thick black hair and brown eyes. He was dressed noticeably well in all-black clothing and even his glasses had black frames. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and he had a flippant smile that could challenge Tony's.

"Dr. Malcolm."

"I find the best way to get something from someone is to ask nicely."

"Alright," Tony conceded. "Will you help us with our investigation?"

"Sure."

Tim and Ziva exchanged a glance as Tony looked confused. Gibbs just watched.

"That's it?"

"Yeah. You asked, I answered. Simple action/reaction thesis. It isn't that complicated."

"What did I tell you?" Tim whispered to Tony. Tony swatted him away.

"Alright, thanks. So, uh… What's your assessment of the island?"

"So far? Not good. I'm not a fan of the idea, I think there are far too many holes that no one considered before they put it into effect. It's like it's begging Chaos theory to come prove itself."

"What idea?" Gibbs spoke gruffly.

"The whole basis of the island. I told Stockett it was a terrible idea. It's too dangerous, someone's going to get hurt." Goodman paused. "You mean to tell me you don't know what they have here at the facility?"

"No."

He began to laugh, and an unusual laugh it was. "Oh, God, that's rich. What are you even doing here if you don't have access to that kind of information?"

"That's kind of what we're trying to find out," Tony said, raising an eyebrow at the eccentric's reaction.

"So you want me to tell you what you aren't allowed to know."

"Would you, please?" Ziva said flirtatiously.

"Thank you for asking, and doing such a nice job of it." He surveyed the group. "Sure."

"Okay then-"

At that moment, his phone began to ring. He checked caller ID.

"Just a second. I'll be right back." He stepped out of the room, and they could faintly hear his "hello" from the hallway before he was out of hearing range.

"Well, that was rather odd." Ducky spoke for the first time.

"You saw it too?"

Ziva slapped Tony's arm with the back of her hand. "So he is different. He is going to help us, I don't believe you have any right to criticize him."

"Ziva David," Tony said with a smile, "You used a contraction."

"What are we going to do, boss?" Tim inquired of their course of action.

Gibbs thought for a moment. "Divide and conquer."

"We need to get inside that building," Tony added.

"Agreed, but how? Stockett will never go for it," Ziva pointed out. Tony made a face.

"We'll have to sneak out."

"Tony, we don't know the way to the scene," Tim argued.

"Sure we do. Stockett showed us that trail on our way here."

"It isn't broad enough for a car."

"Why do we need a car?"

"No, Agent McGee is right," Malcolm said. They didn't even notice that he had come back in the room. "Going on foot would be extremely stupid."

"Yeah, you would know that, but how are we supposed to when we don't even know what's here?"

"Take into account everything you've seen so far. The bodies, the bitemarks, it's obvious that there's some kind of wild, aggressive animal on the loose. Aside from that, a tropical storm is rolling in and the trails will be nearly impossible to navigate it the rain because the mud is like quicksand here. By that logic, you'll need to take a car."

"By that logic, if the mud is like quicksand, a car won't do any good."

"Not on the trails, but the trails aren't wide enough for a car anyway. The road is paved and wide enough for two cars side by side, so driving is your only option."

"We still don't know the way to the crime scene from the road."

"I do, I came in on it."

"And you'll remember?"

"I have an excellent memory."

"Do you now?"

"Yes. For example, Agent McGee." Malcolm pointed at the surprised-looking young man. "I remember him from the time I was twenty-two, presenting a mathematics lecture at MIT. He came up afterwards and shook my hand, dropped his pencil on the floor and told me that my binary equations were, and I quote, 'absolutely fantastic'. He was sixteen, I believe."

Tony looked to McGee for confirmation. Tim, astounded, simply nodded. Tony sighed.

"Alright, so you can take us there. What's in it for you?"

"The whole time I've been here I've been shown only the god things, the things they want me to see, and I'm still not impressed. I want to see what it's really like without their interference."

"Gibbs," Ziva began, "Won't Stockett notice if we are gone?"

"Yes," he replied. "That's why not all of us are going."

With that he stood and sized up Malcolm before looking at his agents. "DiNozzo, McGee. You go with Malcolm. I want to know what's in that building that Stockett doesn't want us to know about."

The two echoed the same "Yes, boss," before grabbing their gear and following Malcolm out. Gibbs looked at Ziva and Ducky.

"It's time to stall."

It was a simple matter to sneak into the garage and push one of the Jeeps out onto the road, easier still to shove it down the road until they were out of earshot before starting it up. It was just beginning to rain as Ian took the driver's seat and maneuvered them slowly through the wet turns and dark corners of the island's large paved road.

Tim sat in the back, ensuring that none of their equipment went flying off the back end of the vehicle whenever the road bumped or jolted them into the air. Along with their standard crime scene equipment and the first aid kit that was already in the Jeep, they had brought along high-powered flashlights, radios so they could submit their findings to Gibbs and their standard issue firearms. Malcolm simply brought his notepad and a pen.

"Are we almost there?"

"Be patient, Tony. Sorry," he added to Ian.

"Hey, it's fine. I get it. I'm not good with patience myself. We're about a quarter of the way there."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. The paddock you're looking for is smack on the other side of the island." Tony couldn't tell if Malcolm was smiling at his chagrin or if it was an automatic reaction from the gum he was smacking on.

Tim raised his eyebrows. "'Paddock'?"

He chuckled. "You'll see."

"I thought you planned on telling us what it was."

"Where's the fun in that when you're just about to see it for yourselves? I get to see you look surprised this way, whereas if I told you now I would miss it because I'm driving. Unless," he said thoughtfully, "You want me to turn around and tell you now."

"No!" Tim cried as the strange man turned around in the driver's seat. Malcolm grinned from ear to ear and turned back to the road.

"That was an even better reaction than I was hoping for."

By the time they reached the site, the sky was pouring rain.

"It's really coming down," Tony commented, pulling his jacket up above his head as he ran from the passenger seat of the vehicle to the stairs that led up to the building's platform. Once the three of them reached the platform, they tried the door handle. It was locked.

Tim and Tony both drew their weapons. Tony kicked down the door, and the two of them entered, calling "clear" after they ensured the safety of the space and beckoning Goodman inside.

"That's what you do all day?"

"You have no idea."

Tony glanced around the room, shuffling papers around with a gloved hand, as Tim turned on the light. He noticed a computer in the corner and wiggled the mouse. The screen came to life almost instantly.

"Hey, Tony, listen at this."

"What is it?"

Tim cleared his throat and read the email aloud. "'Mr. Cooper, I assure you that your order will be filled. You will receive fifteen usable embryos in the correct storage conditions that will be delivered to you Monday night, approximately ten p.m., at the aforementioned location. Do not be late.' What the…?"

"Embryos? What are they talking about?"

"I have no idea."

"Who's Cooper?"

"Oh my God. Tony, from the signature on the previous emails, it looks like it's Howard Cooper. He's the CEO of a company that builds and operates some of the best amusement parks in the world. What could he possibly want that anyone here can give him?"

"Embryos?"

"That doesn't make sense. What embryos are they talking about, and why are they worth all this trouble and secrecy?"

"Who's the email from, Tim?"

His eyes widened as he checked. "Dr. Patricia Stockett."

"Hey!" came the call from the adjacent room. Tim and Tony exchanged a glance and followed the sound.

"What is it, Malcolm-"

A _zzzzz _sound emanated from the light fixture just then. Before they realized what was happening, every light and electrically powered machine in the building shut down.

"Well," came Ian's pessimistically sarcastic voice, "This is a lovely little problem we have here."

"Tim, where are the flashlights?"

In response, Tim handed a cold, long, steely object to Tony, nearly bashing him in the head with it before it found its way to the older man's hand. It was probably a good thing Tony couldn't see McGee's clumsy move. He searched quickly for the switch.

"There we go," he crooned, as the flashlight succeeded in illuminating the room. He pointed it at Malcolm, who cringed at the sudden light in his eyes.

"What up, Doc? What did you want to tell us?"

"Well, you wanted to know what's on the island, right?" he confirmed, swatting the flashlight away from his face.

"Right."

"Observe."

He pointed out the observation window to the space below, which they could now see was some kind of habitat. The leaves of the tropical trees and foliage rustled as something moved through it. The two agents watched carefully, waiting for the animal to make an appearance.

"That's what killed the Lieutenant and the sailor," Tim murmured. "An animal.'

"But why go to so many lengths to keep an animal a secret?" Tony looked at Tim. Tim, however, continued to look straight ahead, eyes now almost comically huge. He pointed a shaking finger at the other side the glass.

"That's why."

It was visible now, out in the open. It was very large and very reptilian, its skin looking like a mix of scales and leather. Its teeth were white and conical, rounded at the tips but undeniably jagged. Its claws were at least six inches and were much sharper than either of them wished to think about.

That was when Tony realized what Tim just had as well.

It was _staring_ at them.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: I have to thank a friend of mine, commonly known as Flurrin, for helping me beta this story. Because it was written in such a short time, the quality of the story is severely lacking, but she's been helping me make it at least readable :) Also, I know that I said one chapter a day. Feel free to blame me, but please, find it in your hearts to review anyway.

**On an important note:** Until now, the Ian Malcolm character had been renamed, because of a lapse in cognitive function on my part. I don't know why I thought that it was a good idea, but... It was pretty stupid. So his original name has been restored in all its glory, and I went back and edited the previous chapters to accommodate the change. My deepest apologies for my idiocy.

XXX

Its eyes were a light green color, flecked with yellow and brown and slitted with black, similar to a cat's eye. They knew it could see them; there was no mistaking that. The cold orbs were too intelligent, too calculating to be mistaken for anything other than those of a predator. It took Tony longer than he was proud of to be able to shift his gaze away from those studying eyes again.

Tim was still watching. Without turning around, he breathed, "Velociraptor."

"That's exactly right, how did you know?" Malcolm seemed mildly intrigued.

"I used to love dinosaurs when I was a kid." Tim tore his eyes away from the creature. His voice was shaky.

"And you remembered which ones look like what?"

"You aren't the only one with a good memory."

"I guess not." He shrugged.

"How did this happen?"

"Somebody decided it would be a great idea to try to create a dinosaur, so they started looking. They discovered DNA by looking for blood in fossilized mosquitoes preserved in amber and completed the genetic sequence with frog DNA."

"That's genius."

"That's idiotic."

Tim and Tony had spoken at the same time. They exchanged a look.

"How is it idiotic, McGee? It's a great idea. I wouldn't have thought to look in a 65-million-year-old mosquito."

"You would have to be able to think in the first place, DiNozzo," Tim retorted. "I agree that it was creative to look in prehistoric amber for Velociraptor DNA, but it's all around a bad idea to make a dinosaur. They're violent predators that we aren't equipped to deal with in this century and they've already shown that by killing Manford and Spencer."

"That's what I told Stockett and the project investors, but they insisted that I come see the island before I jumped to conclusions."

"You've got a point, Probie-Wan. It does seem like they've taken a bunch of precautions, though. Cement walls, game hunters, electric fences-"

"Tony."

"What?"

"_Electric fences_." Tim raised his eyebrows, alarmed. Tony looked at the lamps, computers and machines.

_The power's out._

He gulped. "Well, he's just sitting there. He doesn't seem to be in any hurry to move-"

"Velociraptors are pack hunters," Malcolm said, all sarcasm gone from his demeanor. He was dead serious now.

"That's right. The other two sneak up from the sides when you're looking at the first one." Tim ran his hand over his face. "We're screwed."

"But if we can make it to the car-"

"We can't." There was no doubt in the mathematician's voice.

"You, know, just once I'd like to be able to finish a senten-"

"Shh," Tim hissed, putting a hand over Tony's mouth. They all froze.

There it was, in the room they had come in from: The barely-audible sound of something hard and sharp clacking on the floor.

Something like a claw.

They looked around. The second raptor was outside the door, approaching quietly. The observation window was guarded by the leader, and the glass was too thick to break anyway. Aside from the door and the observation window, there was one smaller window facing the line of trees at the edge of the clearing. Upon further inspection, however, they discovered the metal bars attached from the outside. They only had one option, and that was risking the door.

"Ian," Tim said in a low voice, "You follow _right_ behind us, as close as you can. If you get an opening, run for it." The agents had their Sigs in hand, fully loaded and as ready as they could be.

Still, it was entirely unexpected for some reason when the monstrous prehistoric beast charged through the door. It came in so fast that, unaccustomed to the tile floors, it slid from its speed and hit the opposite wall, giving the three men a chance to run through the door into the adjacent room. That was where they found the third raptor, blocking their way.

With a guttural shriek, the creature lunged for Tony. While Tim and Malcolm went around, Tony ducked underneath the raptor, skidding out the door right behind the other two. The second raptor had gotten up by that point and jumped at the door, a hiss on its lips. Tony pulled the door closed as hard as he could and ran.

Tim had already climbed into the Jeep and revved the engine, and he and Malcolm were now urging Tony closer. As soon as he jumped inside, they took off.

Tim didn't release the gas pedal even a little bit for at least a mile.

XXX

When the power had gone out, Stockett had gone outside to check the breakers. She hadn't come back yet, and it was making Burns very, very nervous. The small scientist looked around the maintenance shed, but there was no sign of the other woman. She shook her head, walking around to the front of the building calling out, "Patricia!'

That was when she found her superior.

Then she was just terrified.

XXX

"And it was watching us…"

Gibbs, Ziva and Ducky were in the same room as before, listening to Tony panic as Malcolm recounted the incident at the Velociraptor paddock. Gibbs was having a hard time wrapping his head around it.

"Dinosaurs?"

"Yes, boss," came McGee's answer. It was clear from his voice that he was trying to be calm and failing.

"Alright, just get yourselves back alive," Ducky commanded calmly. He knew the sounds of fear when he heard them.

That's when a shrill scream echoed from down the hallway.

_Yep. There they are again._

The three of them wasted no time in dashing in the direction of the sound. They arrived on the outside steps about the same time as the other scientists to find Burns, shaking and letting out the terrified sound. Ducky immediately lead her away, attempting to calm her down, while the other five stared down at the source to Burns' fear.

Stockett was lying on the ground directly adjacent to the steps, and her legs and left arm were in the grass a few feet away. There was a large chunk of her midsection missing, and the amount of blood surrounding the body was obscene.

"What happened, boss?" was Tony's echo over the radio. Ziva answered, sighing tiredly.

"Stockett is dead. She appears to have been torn apart."

Silence reigned for a moment, both at the scene and over the radio.

Ian was the first to speak. "I hate being right all the time."

XXX

"And I came to the front, and she was just lying there! She was dead!" Burns barely managed to squeak out those words between sobs. Ducky carried over a cup of steaming tea and set it in her hands. "It's alright, my dear. Everything will be fine."

"Not for Dr. Stockett." A fresh bout of tears came, and Ducky reclaimed the beverage, not wanting the distraught woman to spill it and scald herself.

"The part that doesn't make sense," she said after the bout was over, "is that the power is still off."

"Why?" Ziva asked, attempting a pleasant voice so as not to send the poor woman back into hysterics.

"Because," – she paused to sniffle – "We have a backup generator. It's supposed to kick in within five minutes of the main power source failing."

Ducky glanced at Gibbs and Ziva, handing the cup back to Burns with a comforting "I'll be right back, my dear" and pulling the two agents off to the side.

"Jethro," he began, "tell me you see the problem here."

"Aside from Stockett being eaten alive?"

"Yes. I can't be the only one who noticed the footprint outside."

"You were not," Ziva confirmed. "Five inches deep, at _least_ six feet wide and God only knows how long. It was huge."

"Precisely. Jethro," he repeated, "If the power is out, then we may assume that the electric fences are out."

What Ducky was insinuating sunk in with both of them. "Who knows what other kinds of dinosaurs they have here, aside from Velociraptors? Stockett could have been killed by anything."

Gibbs looked across the room at the remaining occupants of the building. "They know."

Ziva smiled. "Let's go."

Ducky returned to Burns as Gibbs and Ziva strode purposefully across the room.

"What kinds of dinosaurs do you have here?"

Carpenter sputtered. "How did you-"

"It does not matter," Ziva said aggressively. "The point is that we do know, and we need to know which kinds. Aside from Velociraptor."

Lincoln and Price looked unsure. "I'm not sure Dr. Stockett would want us to-"

"T-Rex, Dilophosaurus, Brontosaurus, Brachiosaurus, Stegasaurus and Triceratops."

This came from Dylan, standing before them with a satisfied grin on his face. Ziva sent him a grateful smile.

"We need to find out what happened to the power, Gibbs."

"Where's the backup generator?'

"Uh, i-it's halfway around the island," stammered Carpenter.

"I will go, Gibbs. I can put the power back on."

"Ziva…"

"I'll go with her."

Gibbs stared at Dylan for a moment. To his credit, he didn't even flinch.

"…Alright," Gibbs answered finally. "But I want you armed, with a radio, in a car. Same frequency as Tony and McGee."

"Yes, Gibbs."

He turned to Dylan. "Do you have a gun?"

The South African simply smiled. "Which one shall I bring?"

XXX

Mallory Burns was a shy person. Her family would describe her as sweet, generous and smart, always interested in the way things grow and act. That was why she had been picked for this assignment; she was good at growing things. She had successfully substituted frog DNA to fill in the gaps in the dinosaur's gene sequence. She had put the eggs in the incubator, watched them hatch – miracles in themselves - into tiny dinosaurs, set them free in their paddocks when they were ready to be on their own in a controlled environment. They had been like her children, in an odd way.

Maybe that's why she was so terrified when they started eating her colleagues alive.

Now there was a kind Scottish man helping to calm her down. He spoke gently and slowly and seemed to understand her fear. He even made her tea.

"May I ask you a question, my dear?"

He called her 'my dear'. How sweet.

"Sure."

"You're sure it won't upset you again?"

His name was Ducky. How curious. Like a children's toy.

"Go ahead. Ducky," she added, smiling widely as she said it. It was fun to say. _Ducky._ She'd have to use it more often.

He arched an eyebrow at the use of his name, but didn't ask her about it. Instead, he asked her a much more difficult question.

"Why did Dr. Stockett not want us to know about the dinosaurs?"

Stockett.

It sounded like sock. But just the first part.

She giggled at the thought. The Scottish man – _Ducky,_ she reminded herself with another smile – looked confused again, but one corner of his mouth shifted upwards. It looked like he wanted to be let in on the joke.

_Sorry, Duck-man. Private joke here._

She broke out in another fit of giggles. _Duck-man. That's great._

"Mallory."

Duck… Mallory… She had to suppress a full-blown outburst of hysterical laughter. _My name sounds like Mallard. That's a type of duck._

She straightened her face and looked at _Ducky_. "You would have known that it was the Veloricaptor. I mean, the Levociraptor. The-"

"That's alright, dear. I know what you mean. But, why would it have mattered?"

Wow. That question might require some serious consideration. She scrunched her face up.

"Oh! I got it." She gestured wildly in excitement. _I know the answer! Pick me!_

"Yes?"

"Because you would have told your bosses that it was the Veli… dinosaur, and they would have taken away our grant money." Her manner of speaking was slow, slurred and going up and down in pitch, making her sound drunk. "And then they would have shut us dooooownnnnn." Her tone went from high to low on the last word and dragged it out for too long.

Ducky shook his head and patted the woman's knee. She was now amused by her hand, which appeared to be acting like an airplane in the space in front of her.

He didn't know where the brilliant mind had gone, but it wasn't sitting in front of him.

XXX

A/N: Just a quick note here: I GOT TO WRITE A CRAZY! YAYYYY- *ahem* Sorry. Next chapter should be up tomorrow, but considering the last time I said that... No promises. XD Please review! A free shirtless picture of Malcolm to reviewers 8)


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